


The Broken Beam

by Spubba



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bondage, Canonical Character Death, Celibacy, Cruising, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang Rape, Hate Crimes, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Near Death Experience, Non-Consensual Violence, Non-Sexual Bondage, Off-screen Character Death, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Violence, Situational Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Virginity, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spubba/pseuds/Spubba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Includes illustrations.</p><p>I've got some warnings up there for a reason - this fic is positively sordid! And yes, there will be some character death later on down the line. It's none too pretty, but I plan on a happy ending in spite of all the ugliness. Semi-canon; I'm going to try and keep the timeline as close to the book as I can, but you can consider it partially AU since it doesn't follow the story exactly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hands and Leaves

 

~~* *~~

Bilbo Baggins was to find out, of course, that the stubbornness of Dwarves is legendary for a reason.

It started out innocently enough, as things often do. Bofur Broadbeam's body draped itself over the log next to where Bilbo sat, a thick mat of hides, hair, and homespun. A thick-fingered hand held out a leather pouch, and jagged teeth smiled at him from around the stem of a simple wooden pipe.

"Go on, laddie. Smoke some decent leaf for a change."

Bilbo huffed inwardly. Old Toby was more than decent, as far as he was concerned. But he prided himself on being polite. And while the Dwarf-weed wasn't quite to his taste, he found that it made great smoke-rings, and soon he was showing Bofur how to do it.

Bofur's lips reddened as he pursed his mouth to form smoke rings. Bilbo did not focus on them.

The nights were cold, and sometimes they huddled together for warmth. Bilbo was grateful on the nights that Bofur chose to lie down next to him. They slept back-to-back. Bofur's body did not give off any more heat than the other dwarves.

Bofur certainly wasn't giving him an extra ladle of stew on the nights he served it.

That was definitely not a flower sitting on top of Bilbo's pack in the morning.

He certainly did _not_ feel his ears reddening whenever Bofur gave him _that look_ , dimples deepening as he smiled.

One morning after breakfast, Bilbo walked out a little farther than usual to relieve himself, on high alert lest someone approach. He stroked his cock and came quickly. He told himself that it would help with the day's ride, which had become difficult of late.

He was certainly _not_ thinking of Bofur.

 

~~* *~~

Bifur's hands built angry signs in the air.

Of course he wouldn't approve. Of course Bofur was a fool. Bofur wouldn't have approved himself, if their positions were reversed. But the damage was done. Bofur's heart was given, and could never be taken back.

There was an argument. Bombur wound up flustered in the middle, again. He was too good at understanding both sides of the story. Bofur was so glad they had Iglishmêk that night. He didn't want to shout out loud and risk Bilbo hearing. At the end of it, they all simply agreed to disagree, and Bofur slept apart from the rest of the dwarves that night. He didn't want anyone to see how red his eyes were.

He rose early that morning and walked by himself. There had been rain last night, and a thick mist hung over the ground. He found a nice, solid rock to sit on.

He prayed for a long time, and found herbs for Bombur and bird's eggs for Bifur. The ground was moist, muffling his footsteps as he foraged in the glade.

He nearly interrupted the hobbit, who was obviously preoccupied, but skulked away unseen and unheard. There was no need to embarrass his Intended.

He certainly did not hear his own name whispered in the hush of dawn.

He certainly did _not_ smile all day.

 

~~* *~~


	2. Goblin Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be the last temptation he had to endure on this journey.
> 
> The 'bongy-knocker' makes an appearance. :)

Bofur had lived long enough in the presence of Men to know that Bilbo's desire for him may not have been born of pure intent. Men, and hobbits too, he presumed, judging by what he had observed earlier in the forest, had more base urges that they had to deal with. He wasn't sure yet how Bilbo truly felt about him, other than the more carnal aspects, and felt that this should be cleared up sooner rather than later. He resolved to have a chat with Bilbo sometime soon.

Of course, not all dwarves kept themselves free from lustful pursuits. There were times when Bofur wished he could be more like Nori, who was well known to be open and generous with his attentions, and quite skilled too. Or Ori, his brother, following faithfully in Nori's footsteps, much to the chagrin of Dori, the oldest, who was much more old-fashioned and thought that living among the Men had been bad influence on his younger siblings. Bofur had once noticed the youngest of the Company sneaking away in a threesome by night, giggling; Ori a slender silhouette between the two princelings Fili and Kili, and Dori looking as if he were fit to burst from rage at the impropriety of it all. Thorin had only shrugged and said nothing. Such dalliances were not uncommon amongst the high-born; and with the exception of Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, they were all high-born.

They were in a different caste. They could _afford_ to fool around.

Bofur, on the other hand, had to watch his step; it was not his wish to be regarded as... well, _common_. He had never regretted his decision to remain chaste. Perhaps that was why Bifur got so upset when Bofur announced that Bilbo was his One. Bofur's time would have been better spent courting a proper Dwarf lass and siring children.

If they survived Smaug, of course.

So why had he fixed his affection on this funny little naked-faced creature? Even Bofur didn't quite understand his own actions. All he knew was that he wanted things to work out. Perhaps Aulë himself had a plan for the two of them.

~~* *~~

They took a break at midday, when the path took them to a fast-flowing creek, and offered an opportunity to top off their water rations while Bombur built a small fire and whipped up a hasty pudding. While Dwarves generally don't bathe regularly as a habit, the princelings were soon stripped to their skins and washing their clothes and hair in the ford, laughing as if they were at a party.

Oin muttered something about spoiled poncy brats, and sun and wind and rain cleaning the body just as well as the fancy rose-scented soap that the younglings were passing around.

Gloin was even less kind, and muttered something about Dwarves behaving like Elves. Thorin shot him a glare, then began to remove his own armor, saying that they might as well tend to any wounds or blisters that needed attention before they moved on. Bofur knew he was completely sound, as the company had yet to see battle, but it felt good to shrug out of his clothing anyway. Out of the corner of his eye he spied more and more of Bilbo's white skin coming into view, and suddenly realized he didn't wish to see all of it, at least not just yet. Doing so could lead to... embarrassment. He put as many ponies and Dwarves as he could between himself and Bilbo, and then nipped off around a bend in the creek to wash off the grime. He unbraided his hair, bent over, and ducked his head into the creek, enjoying the good feeling of sun and air and water against clean bare skin, although he'd rather not take a bath for it.

When he opened his eyes, Nori was standing there.

They were just out of sight of the rest of the group, and Nori still carried his polearm. Bofur couldn't help but notice that Nori seemed completely incapable of holding his body straight; even now he slouched, one hip thrust out in a lewd fashion, his shoulders slumped in an exaggerated fashion, head tilted to the side. His body was lean and wiry for a Dwarf, covered in a fine red-brown pelt, and his hair hung unbraided, hanging in a wet mop that covered his shoulders, streamed down his back, and only partially obscured his glittering eyes.

He used Iglishmêk, so the others couldn't eavesdrop. 

_< < (you) handsome >>_

Nori's gaze dropped, fixing pointedly at the level of Bofur's crotch, and he signed again.

_< < (that) enormous thing (is) beautiful >>_

Bofur signed back, embarrassed that someone was paying such particular attention to his privy parts. He tried to translate a terrible joke, to lighten the mood. To get that... _dangerous_ gaze to turn elsewhere, for Mahal's sake. 

_< < (it) good to piss (with) >>_

Nori smiled. The smile was more Goblin than Dwarf, a bit sinister all around, with narrow eyes and edged teeth.

_< < I want (to) suck (that) >>_

Bofur gulped audibly and felt his ears start to burn. The thought of a warm, wet mouth encircling his cock stirred the blood in his loins. Bofur wondered what that might feel like, and suddenly he was all too aware that the water only came up to mid-thigh, not nearly high enough to cover the blush that was beginning to deepen _down there_. Perhaps Nori wouldn't notice?

Nori noticed.

 _< < (it) grows! Marvelous! >>_, signed Nori.

Bofur wanted to disappear.

But Nori's attention was fixed now, and there was no deterring him. _< < (We) go (sneak/hide) away together, I want (to) taste (you) >>_

At the thought of Nori's tongue lapping at such a sensitive area, Bofur's cock leaped to full attention, stretching up from his groin and flushing a deep crimson. He glanced down at it, and was so glad he had chosen to steal away from the others earlier; he certainly would have been the object of ridicule, had they seen it waving so proudly in front of his belly. Nori eyed it hungrily; his own cock was beginning to fill, and it blushed in the midday sun.

Bofur's mind reeled with desire; too many days of thinking about Bilbo had sharpened his appetite more than he'd realized, in spite of his efforts to remain pure in heart. He felt slightly dizzy, and suddenly, a quick romp with Nori seemed like the most wonderful idea in the world.

_we can go to that thicket over there, no one will see_

_it won't take long... no one will know_

_Nori wouldn't tell, would he?_

_no one has to know_

_Bilbo would never find out..._

His thoughts ground to a halt.

Bofur knew he couldn't. He just _couldn't_. Even if Nori didn't tell (and Bofur wasn't entirely convinced that Nori could keep mum about any of his conquests), Bofur would know. He would court Bilbo knowing that he'd been unable to even do this one simple thing, to keep himself chaste for his Intended. He felt a sudden fury at himself for even considering the thought. And what would Nori think of him, were they to continue on this track? Would Nori see him as not only a poor miner, but a common slut as well? Perhaps a whore to be bought off with a coin or other trinket? If Nori, of all people, saw him in this way - what would that mean for the others? How would _Thorin_ see him then?

Bofur would have to refuse, although he'd prefer to do so as politely as possible. _< < I (am) flattered (but) no >>_, he signed.

Nori's face fell. He made no effort to hide his disappointment.

 _< < Little sparrow >>_, signed Nori, lacking the proper sign for 'hobbit'. Bofur understood immediately what he meant, and smiled.

 _< < (a) precious (thing) >>_, signed Nori.

 _< < (my) heart (is) given >>_, signed Bofur.

Nori smiled back, and this time it wasn't the goblin-smile.

~~* *~~


	3. The Hammer and the Ingot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur finally gets around to confronting Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was extra hard for me to write, since I'm laying out a lot of information all at once and also putting in a little smut. Everything I do, though, I do for a reason. There is a method to my madness!
> 
> It may help to know a bit about my headcanon about Dwarves, since I bring all of this up later:  
> \- Dwarves are only capable of loving one person in their lives ("A dwarf loves only once and forever")  
> \- Dwarves can see into the infrared spectrum, if the air is still enough (as it would be underground) and they're paying attention (which they're often not).

As they continued on their journey, Bofur ruminated on his strange encounter with Nori, and wondered what it could all mean. Up until today, Nori had always treated him with respect, never giving him any reason to feel uncomfortable. Perhaps, mused Bofur, his attraction to the hobbit had singled him out as a potential target. Perhaps Bofur had unwittingly presented himself as available; this thought troubled him, since he didn't want to send those kinds of signals.

Nori wasn't saying anything about it to the rest of the Company, at least as far as Bofur could tell. He saw the chestnut-haired dwarf lean over and whisper something to Bilbo, which raised his hackles immediately, but it must have been of no great importance, as Bilbo neither reacted nor looked at him.

Behind him, Gloin kicked his pony into a spanking trot and rode past to approach Thorin.

"There is a town of Men nearby, if I read the map correctly," he said. "Shall we stop for provisions before going further?"

"No," said Thorin. "That will put us half a day's ride off course."

The Company grumbled at this, and Bofur grumbled right there with them. Sleeping rough in the wild was well enough, but he never felt safe without a few leagues' worth of mountain between himself and the elements. What he wouldn't do for a night in a real bed in a real inn, just once more, and a fat leg of mutton roasting on a spit rather than another piece of stringy wildlife floating with assorted weeds and mushrooms in the stew-pot! Bombur did his best of course, but the meals were beginning to taste a bit monotonous.

The grumbling continued as they stopped for the night and made their camp. "To think, we could have our feet up by the fire in a nice warm pub somewhere right now," muttered Dori. He had found a pine branch, and was carefully picking the most tender needles from it to make tea. He had some proper tea in his pack, but preferred to make it last as long as possible.

Thorin glared, but said nothing. Bofur preferred to stay as far away from the grouchy Dwarf as possible, so he sidled up to Bombur to help him serve up the evening meal.

"Ho there, Bombur, give Bilbo some of my portion!" he said.

Bombur huffed at him. "You're getting too thin," he scolded. "Don't think I don't notice. You're pulling your belt awful tight these days."

"It's just the lack of ale. I'm as strong a Dwarf as I ever was." Bofur took his and Bilbo's bowls from his brother. "Besides, you've seen how much Hobbits eat. He'll appreciate it more than I ever would."

"Your belly will become flat, and you'll look like an Elf," growled Bombur. "Besides, if you're trying to curry favor with the hobbit, your time is wasted."

"What?" Bofur stopped short, alarmed. Was some other Dwarf trying to woo his burglar?

"He won't stop staring at you!" Bombur hissed. "It's bloody embarrassing, is what it is. You need to talk with him if you plan to court him. He's been gazing at you all day like a lovestruck lass!"

"I just hope he hasn't heard some scandal about me," said Bofur, remembering his awkward encounter with Nori earlier that day.

Bombur snorted. "Unless it's the bloody obscene amount of weed you put through that pipe every day, what scandal could he have heard about you, brother?"

He shook his head and went back to stirring the soup, and tasting it.

Again.

Bofur left him alone.

~~* *~~

"Walk with me."

"I - excuse me?" Bilbo set his bowl down, flushing deeply. Behind him, the other Dwarves chuckled softly; even Thorin cracked a slight smile.

Bofur held his hand out to Bilbo, emboldened. "Walk with me."

They strolled to a little clearing just outside the camp, not far enough that they would put themselves in harm's way. Deciding that it was now or never, Bofur drew the hobbit close to him, so close that their bodies nearly touched.

"Long have I wanted to do this," he breathed.

"Then do it," said Bilbo. In the starlight, Bofur could just barely make out the hobbit's features, flushed and radiating soft red heat, but his mouth was set in a determined line, and his eyes were hard - that funny expression that the hobbit got from time to time, when he was bound and determined to have his way, in spite of his cautious nature trying to take over. He called that caution his "Baggins half", and sometimes Bofur wished he had never heard the word "Baggins", much preferring the "Took" side of Bilbo's personality.

Bofur leaned in and pressed his forehead to Bilbo's, being careful not to bump their heads too hard together - Dwarves always appreciate a good crack, but other races, not so much. He finished off with a gentle nose rub, closing his eyes in bliss as he squeezed the hobbit gently in his arms - Bilbo was as soft to hold as he'd ever imagined, and smelled like summer, and pipe-weed, and moss - and was a little surprised when Bilbo raised his mouth and captured Bofur's lips in his own. It was a gesture he'd seen practiced often among the race of Men, but never thought he'd get a chance to try it himself. White-hot sparks of arousal shot up his spine, collected in his groin, and flashed in his vision. It was shockingly primal, and intimate, and almost overwhelmingly erotic.

"Oh," breathed Bofur, when Bilbo finally released him. "That's good, that is."

Bilbo chuckled softly. "What, have you never been kissed before?"

"Not like that! We Dwarves, we just..." He finished the sentence by bumping heads and rubbing noses with Bilbo again, making the hobbit smile. The way Bofur did it was surprisingly passionate as well as fond, and Bilbo found that he quite liked the way Dwarves kissed as well as hobbits.

So they kissed, in both fashions, for quite some time, until the passion mounted between them and their breath grew hot. Bilbo probed at Bofur's mouth with his tongue until the Dwarf opened for him, and as they melted into each other, Bofur made a most undignified little noise in the back of his throat, nearly overcome with desire. The little pool of heat that had settled between his legs earlier had grown into an uncomfortable pressure that begged for attention.

And then Bilbo was stroking the front of his jerkin, pulling at the fabric - Bofur's mind screamed _yes, yes, a thousand times yes_ \- and he practically tore the garment open, rucking up his undershirt so the hobbit could probe beneath it with his soft hands, nimble fingers finding his nipples and gently flicking them, driving more lightning bolts of arousal through his flesh. In fact, Bofur had no idea that a body could feel such intense hunger. He moaned into Bilbo's neck. The hobbit responded by palming his aching cock through his trousers, pulling back a little and looking up at Bofur with slightly glazed eyes.

"I want -" started Bilbo.

"I'm yours, laddie, take what you need from me," whispered Bofur, and unlaced his trousers. A curious hand worked its way under the belt line, wrapping around his length, and Bilbo's eyes widened as he measured it by touch.

"Does it please you?" asked Bofur, as Bilbo's hand explored his cock, rolling a gentle thumb over the sensitive tip, then cradling the stones that hung beneath it. He was a little unnerved by Bilbo's shocked expression.

"Oh. Oh, my, yes," whispered Bilbo, still a little stunned. "Are all Dwarves made like this?"

Bofur grinned. "I'm not sure, laddie, the only _bakhuz_ I'm on familiar terms with is me own."

"It's lovely," said Bilbo, his smile broadening. "What did you just call it, again? I didn't catch that."

"I would say hammer, if translated into the common tongue."

"Then it is a mighty hammer." Bilbo leaned closer and gave it a squeeze. "I should very much like to feel it strike."

Bofur groaned at that; right now, he wanted nothing more than to strike Bilbo's ingot with his swollen, aching hammer, again and again until the seed spilled out of both of them, and he intended to do just that. He leaned in for another searing kiss as his trousers fell to his knees; his hammer sprung free, pointing upwards, and he went to work on Bilbo's vest as they sank into the soft bed of leaves at their feet. Bilbo was kissing him wildly and saying words like "yes" and "please" and "now" and "I need it" in a breathless tone of voice that only served to add heat to Bofur's forge. Bilbo's skin was white and soft and perfectly hairless everywhere, except a bit under his arms and around his cock, which was smaller than Bofur's but, in the old dwarf's eyes, no less beautiful than any other he'd seen. He spent some time touching and caressing his lover's smooth body, smiling when Bilbo closed his eyes and sighed, but having never lain with another person, Bofur wasn't really sure what to do once he had them both naked and lying together; so he let Bilbo take the lead, kissing his way down the dwarf's chest and stomach, and then pausing for a moment of admiration before putting the tip of Bofur's cock into his mouth.

The world closed in on Bofur, and he practically yelped with surprise at the sensation of being surrounded by moist warmth, a probing tongue lapping at the underside and teasing gently at his slit. His back arched; his fingers scrabbled pointlessly in the leaves. If he'd had an inkling of just how good this thing could feel, he thought, he would have asked Bilbo for it weeks ago. Even now, he felt the release building up inside of him, a slow tingle tickling up from his _khulb_ and spreading through his stones as Bilbo worked his hammer, his fist stroking up and down as his tongue kept lapping over the head... but he wasn't ready for this to end just yet, didn't want to finish too soon.

"Bilbo, lad, stop that, you're abou' to make me burst!" he gasped.

Bilbo, mercifully, raised his head just before the inevitable moment. Bofur breathed deeply, felt the swell within him nearly crest, and then ebb back. "And what's wrong with that? Nothing wrong with a little fun here and again, now, is it?" asked Bilbo.

A shock of terror caused Bofur to sit upright, scooting away from Bilbo and reaching for his discarded trousers, suddenly embarrassed. _"Fun?"_ he asked, horrified. "Fun? You think of this as just a bit of _play_ between us?"

Bilbo blanched, realizing his mistake. "Forgive me, Bofur, that's not at all how I meant it!"

"Oh, Bilbo." Bofur was getting dressed now, pulling the fabric back up over his aching hammer. It would pain him for hours- no, days- to come, and make riding a chore. "I think you've got the wrong idea about this." He shrugged into his undershirt and threw his jerkin back on over his shoulders.

"What?" cried Bilbo. "You like me, I like you - what on earth is wrong with that?"

 _"Like?"_ said Bofur. " _Like_ me? Is that all? 'Good for a shag, that Bofur is! Not terribly bright I'm afraid, but a nice fat cock on 'im all the same!' Is that all I am to you?"

"No, of course not, you know I-"

"Because if all you want is a quick bump in the woods, there are other Dwarves in this company who would be glad to oblige you, and not trouble you for anything else after the deed!" He tried very hard not to think of Nori as he said this, but the lean Dwarf's goblin smile invaded his mind's eye unbidden, mocking him as he spoke.

"Bofur, you great oaf! You're so much more than just a fuck to me. I've become quite fond of you, you know."

"Fond?" Bofur paused, still dressing himself. He had his boots on, now.

"More than fond, then! If all I wanted was a quick shag, I know who I could talk to. Trust me, that's not my intent. I want to be with _you_."

Bofur sat back down next to Bilbo. "Look, lad, there's something about us Dwarves that you need to understand. When we fall in love, we are able to do so only once. We give our hearts for life."

Bilbo sat silent, considering.

"An' while some of the other Dwarves in our company might be content to play and act like children and hop in and out of each other's trousers willy-nilly, they've not got the same stake in this adventure that I have."

"What's that?" Bilbo sagged into Bofur and relaxed, content to let him talk.

"Respectability."

Bilbo snorted at that. "You're already respectable. Compared to some, I'd say you were a perfect gentledwarf." And it was true; while Bofur might act crude by Hobbit standards, at least at the dinner table, Bilbo considered him quite a decent fellow.

"But I'm a common breed. Except for myself, my brother and my cousin, this company is made up of blue-blooded Longbeards, the whole blasted lot of 'em! And a Dwarf will never let you forget something like that. They're high-born, and I'm not."

"So? Whose business is it of theirs if you can't trace your family's lineage directly back to Durin himself? If you take back Erebor, you'll be one of the richest people anyone in Middle-Earth has even heard about!"

"Yes, I'll be a very rich _commoner!_ And I'd be expected to keep my place. When I went to walk in the high streets, the folk there won't say, 'Good day to you, sir!' Oh, no. They'll say, 'Oh, Master Bofur, very nice day, can we help you? You must be lost, here, let me help you find your way back to where you are going.' And they would take me right away, out of their neighborhoods, back to the deep holes and mines where my kind belong, riches or no riches."

"That would be a shameful way to treat a hero."

"They would be very courteous of course, but they'd still be _above_ me, at least by birth! But I aim to change that, Master Baggins. And here is the heart of it: if we succeed in liberating Erebor from Smaug, I aim to ask Thorin Oakenshield for a title."

Realization began to dawn on Bilbo. "I see. And in order to ask such a thing from Thorin..."

"I should be perfectly respectable, in _every_ way! I don't want to have done anything which could possibly look unseemly to him. I wish to appear a fine, upstanding gentledwarf, and a hero when the time comes - brave and true, no sordid behavior, no secrets, no criminal record. I've always made sure to not dally in dishonorable pursuits, but especially not now. I want him to have a good opinion of me."

"And how do I figure in to all this?" asked Bilbo, still slightly confused, although he was beginning to realize the position that Bofur had put himself in.

"That's just it," said Bofur softly, and he couldn't restrain himself from kissing Bilbo's soft blond hair. "I wasn't planning on meeting you, but... now that I have, I could bond you, when we reach Erebor. My title would be shared with you, and any of our heirs. We'd be Lords of Erebor."

"You would give this to me?"

"Of course, my dear Bilbo." Bofur's eyes closed tightly and he clutched the hobbit to his side. "For good or for ill, I love you."

"Once a Dwarf gives his heart," whispered Bilbo.

"Forever."

"Then I shall try to be worthy of such a thing," said Bilbo, and kissed him gently, with passion. "I make no promises that I will be. But I do love you, Bofur." 

As Bilbo kissed him and admitted his love for the Dwarf, Bofur felt a little dizzy, as if he were plunging from a cliff. "So what you're saying is, if we survive this fool's errand and retake Erebor, that you'll agree to be my life bond?"

"Yes, of course!" said Bilbo, although he hadn't given the thought of living in the Dwarven city any serious consideration. That would come later. All he knew right now was that he was unwilling to be separated from his lover. "I want to be together, with you."

"Then it's settled!" exclaimed Bofur. "I would slay a thousand dragons with my own bare hands, if that's what it takes to keep you by my side."

"Let us worry about just the one, for starters! And now, if you please," said Bilbo, for the Took was strong in him, "we were about to carry on with another matter that needs to be taken care of, which I also want very much..." and he tugged at Bofur's trousers, which were still unbuttoned, but Bofur had lost his arousal by then, and was no longer interested in playing love-games, at least not for the moment.

"No!" cried Bofur, and leaped up, tugging at his clothing and putting it all back in proper order. "That cinches it! A Lord of Erebor doesn't treat his life-bond like a common slut! You deserve so much better than rutting like a wild beast in the thicket! I shall bed you soon enough, my dear Bilbo, and when I do, I shall do it as properly as I'm able - but only after we have retaken our home and I have a proper house and title to show for it!"

Bilbo groaned inwardly. Tomorrow's ride would be a difficult one!

But Bofur was pulling him up by the hand, brushing him off smartly and helping him put his trousers on. "A proper courting is in order," he was saying. "I have no gift to give you, my dearest, but I shall find one as soon as I'm able."

"A gift?"

"Do hobbits not give gifts to each other when they are courting?"

"I'm sure they do, although I've never courted anyone - I've seen hobbit-lasses give cakes and pies to their men, and the men give them flowers, I suppose."

"Then I shall give you a gift, when I have the opportunity. Until then, may I put a braid in your hair? It tells the others that I've marked you as my Intended."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose. Go ahead. They'll find out soon enough, I guess."

With that, Bofur's large but surprisingly quick fingers worked a braid into Bilbo's hair, just above and behind his ear; and it was with this braid in his hair and a deep ache in his groin (for the evening had left him happy, but most unsatisfied) that he returned to the camp on Bofur's arm, the two of them walking very close together. That night, the others smiled as Bofur played more songs and told more jokes than usual; he even imagined that Thorin gave them a slow nod, as if he recognized and approved of their betrothal to each other.

"Oh, well," thought Bilbo, as they bedded down for the night. "If the Sackville-Bagginses were to see me now, they would certainly call me strange and queer! First I leave the Shire and go on an adventure, and now here I am in the wilderness, betrothed to a Dwarf of all things - and a male at that! I shall never be respectable again! Good thing I don't care to be respectable anymore!" He chuckled to himself at that, and then Bofur's arm draped over his body, and he slept as well that night as he ever had in his own bed back at Bag End.


	4. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bofur decides to give Bilbo a gift, there is a most unpleasant encounter, and Nori graduates from the No Shit Sherlock Detective School Of the Obvious.

It was midmorning the next day when Bofur spied the apple.

They had risen and started off in good time, although there was still grumbling about not visiting the nearby town. All the dwarves thought it might be wise to stock up on provisions. Thorin was having none of it. There was a bit of a chill that morning, and they all passed a small skin of liquor back and forth to take the nip out of the air and to lighten their spirits. And then Bofur saw it - a glint of red deep in the forest, down a small ravine, only about a hundred yards from the track. It was so shiny that he couldn't believe no one else had seen it, and couldn't believe his good fortune.

He reined up his pony. It would take only a few minutes to scramble down the hill, climb the tree and retrieve it. And what a grand surprise this little gift would make for his hobbit!

"Oi, Bombur, take my pony!" he called to his brother, leaping from the animal's back and tossing the reins to the tubby dwarf. "I need a piss."

"You should have gone before we left," scolded Bombur.

"Stop it! You sound like Mother! I'll only be a moment, now. You go on. I'll catch up."

"Take (the) weapon", signed Bifur.

Bofur patted his mattock, still strapped firmly to his pony's saddle. "And you worry too much, cousin!" he laughed. "I'll only be a few feet that way! You won't even miss me. It's perfectly safe!"

Bifur made a sign that Bofur refused to acknowledge - he refused to get into an argument with his beloved, but somewhat addled, cousin, and started in the opposite direction from the group, back towards the bend where he'd seen his prize. It would only take a moment, only a short breath of time.

He slid quickly down the hill, pausing at the base of the apple-tree to listen for danger. It wasn't his usual way, but he thought he'd be cautious. He was alone now, after all - although he was sure that he could still yell or whistle for help if he needed it. The tree, however, was a bit more complicated. Dwarves are adept at navigating cliffs and ravines, but not so much at climbing trees.

He tried wrapping his arms around the tree-trunk and scrambling up, but this didn't work. Several times he hit the ground with a hard thump. Finally he came upon the brilliant idea of climbing back up the steep hill a short ways, taking a flying jump, and catching a low branch in his hands. It only took five or six tries before he nailed it and swung up.

 _This is taking longer than I expected_ , he thought, a bit breathless from the effort. _I need to hurry before the others start to get worried_.

He climbed quickly up from branch to branch, reached out with an arm too short for this sort of thing - and slipped.

Down, down, down he fell, striking every branch on the way - and landed once again with a thump in the soft leaves at the tree's base, hitting with such force that he bit his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Worse, though, was the sharp pain that shot through his right ankle as soon as he hit, and he knew he had at least sprained it, if not worse. Walking was going to be a chore for at least several days, if not more! He wiped his mouth and was rewarded by the sight of a bright stain of blood on his mitt.

Bofur let out a roar of frustration. Of all the clumsy oafs in the Company, he was the clumsiest!

Although his ankle was screaming at him, he staggered up the hill one more time - one _last_ time, he told himself - and shambled awkwardly down the hill, took one last desperate jump, caught the branch, swung up, and before he could stop and talk himself out of going higher, he had scaled the tree, shimmied out onto the apple-branch, closer this time, and seized his prize. And this time, he was careful, ever so careful, to climb down slowly without losing his grip, either on the tree or on the apple. And it was with a slow and painful effort that he climbed the hill back up to the trail, for his ankle had grown quite stiff and swollen by this time, and strained painfully at the seams of his boot. He hoped he hadn't broken any bones, but only Oin would be able to tell. Bofur sighed. He would have to walk fast to catch up to the others, and he certainly didn't feel up to the task right now. He found a sturdy branch to lean on, and had made all of three steps in the right direction when suddenly, a Man was standing in his path.

He didn't know where the Man had come from. One instant, the trail was clear; and the next, his way was blocked.

"Oh! Good morning, sir!" was all he could think to say.

The Man did not look at all friendly. In fact, he seemed quite displeased. He was dressed as a hunter or ranger might dress, but his clothes were raggedy and soiled, and his black hair was plastered greasily to his forehead. A scruff of mangy beard dotted his chin, in sparse Man-style, and his beady eyes were small and mean.

"And what," snarled the Man, "is a Dwarf doing in our forest, stealing our food?"

"Your food- Oh. Oh!" said Bofur, and held out the apple. "My apologies, I didn't realize-"

The Man knocked the apple from Bofur's hand. It struck the ground hard. Bofur winced. His beautiful prize was bound to be bruised, now. What a shame, since he'd worked so hard to obtain it.

"I can't eat nasty things touched by your kind," growled the man with obvious distaste. "You're spoiling our forest with your presence!"

 "What's all this?" came a second voice. This was another Man, taller than the first, with dirty blond hair and a green coat, who appeared out of the trees only a few yards off. "Oh, you've poached yourself a Dwarf, Farin! That will taste lovely roasted over the fire!"

"Mind your tongue, Skevis! This is the pest what's been stealing our food!"

"I didn't mean to steal!" said Bofur. In spite of himself, he felt his sarcastic side rise up. "If I'd known that every twig and stone in this Godsforsaken wilderness was spoken for, I'd have been more than happy to let it alone and be on my merry way. Now pardon me!" And he made to step around the black-haired man, except the other moved to block his passing.

"You forgot a thing, little dwarf," said the black hair, Farin, in a mocking tone. He pointed at the apple.

Bofur snarled up at the Man, making sure to show his teeth. He just wanted to get back to the Company, and safety. These Men were obviously not going to be friendly. He longed to put some distance between himself and the poachers. He was starting to feel threatened by this entire encounter. "You keep it, with my blessing!"

"I'll bless you, thief!" barked Farin, and hit Bofur, hard, with his fist.

Now, Dwarves possess a flesh that is more solid and dense than that of a Man; that is to say, the blow did not hurt Bofur all that much. Oh, for sure, it stung, and Bofur should feel it for a few minutes at least. It may have even reddened his face, had it been solid enough. But it takes more than a simple punch from a Man to knock a Dwarf down, even one such as Bofur, who was not used to much fighting yet. There was an audible crack and the Man roared in pain, for he had struck Bofur square on the cheek-bone; and being what it was, the Dwarf's hard skull had yielded about as much to the blow as a boulder might have. That is to say, not a lot at all.

"Oi, Skevis, 'e's gone an' broken me hand!" Farin danced about, for he was in a fair amount of pain, and Bofur took this opportunity to seize his branch in both hands - oh, how he missed his trusty mattock! - and take a fighting stance, targeting both Men. Sadly, he was not only outnumbered, but he was less heavily armed than the other two apparently were, for the blond Skevis drew the polearm he had been carrying - Bofur imagined that it had once been a boar-spear, although the tip was broken off - and Farin was suddenly twirling a bolo in his good hand, still hissing over the pain in his bruised knuckles.

"Now, dwarf, we shall have you!" said Skevis, and have him they did, after only a few strikes. Skevis' polearm cracked hard against his jaw; Farin's bolo struck his legs hard and the ropes wound themselves around his leg (hitting his ankle again, causing him to yelp as he fell), and the branch was knocked from Bofur's hands. He soon found himself quite handily tied up, face down on the forest floor, his head ringing from several hard kicks they had each seen fit to land on his cranium with their boots, just for good measure. Bofur was a bit dazed from all this, and allowed himself to be dragged away without much fuss. His scalp was now bleeding into his eyes, and his vision swam. He knew not where he was being led, and dragged his feet hard in the leaves, hoping that the rest of the Company might be able to follow his trail.

 

 

*``*

 

 "Where's Bofur?"

Bilbo had pulled his pony to a halt, and was peering anxiously down the trail. "He should have been back by now."

"This is true," agreed Balin, stopping beside him.

"He's making trouble," grumbled Dwalin. "We should not have split up like this."

"Go on, find him," ordered Thorin, although Dwalin had already kicked his pony into a trot, followed closely by Bifur. Nori snorted, wheeled his horse around, and followed without a word. Everyone had enough sense to not even bother telling Nori to stay put. He wouldn't have listened anyway.

Finally, they had all doubled back. When they got to the place where they had left Bofur, there was no sign of him. For at least half an hour they called and searched, but there was no answer, no sign. In their foolishness, the dwarves and their ponies had trod all over the Man-prints in the road, until no discernible trail was left.

"He's blown away in the wind!" remarked Dori. "Like a puff of smoke!"

"Not quite, brother," said Nori, bending over as if to examine something. "There has been some foul play here, I'm sure of it."

Silence fell over the group, and all eyes turned to the ginger dwarf. "Explain yourself," said Thorin, who was quite put out over having one of his Company completely vanish into thin air.

"I found this," said Nori, and held up the scarlet fruit. "Who among this gluttonous lot would leave such a morsel untouched?"


End file.
